The Soft Kitty Experimentation
by lenoirleon
Summary: Late one night  or early one morning , a man is wakened by the cries of an infant.


_(Characters not mine, nor is the song…only the idea)_

The Associate Professor of Physics at UCLA was startled awake by the cries of an infant. Years ago, such interruption to his REM cycle would have been cause for much consternation on his part, but things had changed. He had changed. He laid still, hoping for quiet, but none came. He slid out of an otherwise empty bed and padded down to the end of the hall. The hardwood floors, high ceilings, and muted paint colors had all been chosen by his wife when they moved in, not long after he accepted the professorship. Soft light filtered into the area where he stood, and he noticed a picture frame had been knocked off kilter. Adjusting it, he stepped into the lamp lit room.

"Did she wake you?" A young woman paced the floor, the three-month infant in her arms. At just over thirteen pounds and two feet long, the baby made a ruckus. Years ago, he wondered if there was a formula for the amount of noise beings could make in comparison to their size. He had found there didn't seem to be any type of correlation. He nodded, but smiled slightly.

"It is to be expected."

"No matter what I do, she won't fall asleep. I've fed her, changed her, we've rocked…nothing works." Dark circles were already forming under tired eyes. She needed her sleep.

"Can I offer my assistance?" He held out his arms for the squalling girl.

"At this point, I'm up for anything." Still fussing, the baby was transferred over and he began swaying. For a few seconds, it seemed as if the change had helped, but after a few glances up and a gasp or two, the crying continued.

"Shhhh…Shhhh…" He knew it was unlikely to work, but he murmured into her ears as he patted and rubbed her tiny back-just barely big enough for his hand to fit. "Go back to bed. I'll take her for a while." For a second, a refusal crossed her face, but an already sleepless night won over pride. A quick peck to his cheek, one to her daughter, and the petite blonde woman left. He continued his ministrations to no avail. An idea entered his mind, one that broke some rules, but no one would know but him. He continued to move about the small room and began to sing.

"Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur." The baby stopped at the sound. He had never sung to her in her thirteen weeks and four days of life. Blue eyes, mirror images of his own, stared back at him. Encouraged, he continued.

"Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr purr purr." She continued to watch him. Her mouth worked for a moment, but then grew into a large 'o' as she yawned. He stopped moving, feeling the thrill of success. He thought of the Nobel he had received recently-this topped it. Unfortunately, his victory was short-lived as the child began to whimper. He began to sing again.

"Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur." Again, she quieted. Slowly, as he continued to repeat the song, her eyelids fell and rose several times. Eventually, they remained still and her breathing evened. Quickly and quietly, he laid her in the crib, turned down the light and left the room. Instead of returning to the master bedroom, he crept down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. The light was on there as well.

His wife bustled around, pouring a glass of milk. A half-full cup of orange juice sat on the counter. She handed him the glass and he sipped, while she drained the rest of her juice. They stood in the silence while he finished, then picked up both containers and put them in the sink. In silent agreement, they left the room together and returned up the stairs.

"You know, I heard you singing. I haven't heard that in ages." She looked up at him as they climbed, a smile on her face.

"Small children find music comforting. So I experimented." They rounded the banister and quietly walked to their bedroom. Not another word was said until they were safely ensconced in their room, with the door shut.

"But you've always told me that 'Soft Kitty' is for when you're sick." Returning back to bed with someone was much more pleasant than waking up alone. Arranging the covers and pillows also gave him time to think of a rebuttal.

"Visiting a new place and being in a different room than one is used to could make one homesick. And homesick is a kind of sick." He could almost hear her eyes roll as she snuggled against him, back to front, her hair in his face. It still surprised him how much he enjoyed this human contact, though the graying strands sometimes tickled.

"So you're saying our granddaughter is homesick?" His arm slid around her and they lay still. Then he nodded, and she felt the movement through the pillows. "Wait until I tell your daughter that you broke the rules."

"She was exhausted. I don't think she will mind this one time." He didn't realize she was joking, that she had already planned on it being their secret. But…she could benefit from this.

"You know, if you'd sing it one time for me, I wouldn't tell." She flipped, watching the contours of his face move in the mostly dark room. Then she grinned as she heard the tell-tale sigh that meant she had won.

"You do realize this means I am going against years of tradition?" He felt her smile through the kiss with which she graced his lips. Quietly, he sang the lullaby again.

"I love you, Sheldon."

"I love you, Penny."

Minutes later, the entire house was asleep.


End file.
